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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632266">back in the day, you were all i had</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleCatGhost/pseuds/PurpleCatGhost'>PurpleCatGhost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>HLVRAI Fanfics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Being born in Black Mesa and being a prototype kinda fucks with you, Claustrophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, Some Emotional Manipulation, Young Bubby and Coomer, takes place in the past</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:55:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleCatGhost/pseuds/PurpleCatGhost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Harold Coomer is upbeat, weirdly nice, and Bubby's newest lab partner. Bubby expects this to end messily as it always does and he'll be gone soon enough. What he doesn't know is that Dr. Coomer is stubborn as hell and is here to stay.</p>
<p>And maybe Bubby's life will improve because of it. Only time will tell.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>HLVRAI Fanfics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>255</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Instinctual Kindness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started this almost immediately after I posted my last fic. I wanted more Boomer focused content, so I made it!</p>
<p>Takes place in the past! This could technically be compliant with my series 'Existential Existence' BUT it's not really directly connected and 100% can be read as a stand alone!</p>
<p>Heads up! The Emotional Manipulation tag is there pretty much solely because of the character 'Rhea' I put in who represents a lot of Black Mesa's fucked up parts of it so if you want some Boomer content but want to avoid that, skimming past Rhea is a good way to do that!</p>
<p>Time for some multichapter fic fun, buckle up.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If one were to look up Bubby’s Black Mesa Personal File, they would quickly figure out from his long list of past lab partners that Bubby does not work well with others.</p>
<p>However, Bubby is lucky that one of the few things he doesn’t get judged on is his ability to cooperate with others. As the Ultimate Lifeform, Bubby is meant to be able to exist perfectly fine on his own. While they do want him to have decent social skills, priorities take hold when it comes to these sorts of things. </p>
<p>Skill to work on his own &gt; Teamwork, after all.</p>
<p>Despite this, that doesn’t stop them from trying. Bubby gets used to a loop of sorts after the fifth failed partnership.</p>
<p>Bubby gets assigned a partner. Bubby and partner fight over who’s right. Partner eventually demands to get reassigned. Bubby gets a blissful few weeks to work on his own as they search for someone new, and once they do, the cycle repeats.</p>
<p>People leave. Bubby is used to that by now. He’d be a fool not to see the pattern.</p>
<p>So hearing “You have been assigned a new lab partner” is old news. Bubby just huffs to himself and drags himself to meet whoever had the unfortunate job of partnering up with him.</p>
<p>Bubby walks through the door to his personal lab. Inside are two people, one he recognizes and another he doesn’t. </p>
<p>The one he recognizes is an older woman in her 50s he can identify as Rhea, one of his <i>handlers.</i> Bubby internally cringes at the word. As a prototype, Bubby was assigned a few people to watch over him- to make sure he was a <i>successful</i> prototype. So far, Bubby has passed every vital test but even now they still ghost him, <i>just waiting to see if he fucks up.</i></p>
<p>Bubby pushes the thought out of his head. Weakness is not allowed in the head of a perfect lifeform.</p>
<p>“Bubby, it’s a pleasure to see you.” Rhea smiles slightly. She gestures to the man next to her while keeping eye contact. “Let me introduce you to your new lab partner, Dr. Harold Coomer. He’s <i>quite</i> excited to work with you.”</p>
<p>The message underlining her words is clear.<br/>
<i>‘Try not to scare this one off. Your options are getting limited.’</i></p>
<p>Bubby keeps his face neutral. Talking back to a handler is a good way to land himself back in his tube, and that’s the <i>last</i> thing he wants. Instead, he gives a firm nod and shifts his gaze to Dr. Coomer.</p>
<p>The man looks to be around his age- his 30s at the very least. He has thick, brown hair and a mustache that reminds Bubby of a cartoon character. His bright, green eyes beam up at Bubby, as the man is quite a few inches shorter. He offers his hand out despite being a few feet away.</p>
<p>“Hello, Dr. Bubby! Pleasure to meet you!”</p>
<p>Bubby hesitates, but only for half a second. Rhea’s gaze doesn’t give him a choice on how to respond. Striding forward, he takes his hand and shakes it. “Likewise.”</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Dr. Coomer, as Bubby soon learns a week in, is quite different than most of the other partners he’s had. For one, he’s not half as arrogant as any of them, willingly admitting when he’s wrong with a genuine smile.</p>
<p>Not to mention, he’s <i>kind</i> in a way that most aren’t. He’s not trying to press to make friends, more leaving the door open and seeing if that’s what Bubby wants. Every gesture he does seems to be second nature.</p>
<p>Bubby buries himself in his work- a usual occurrence. He writes, erases, and rewrites on the large white board. He glares at his own writing like it’s the bane of his existence. If he doesn’t figure this out soon, he might explode.</p>
<p>Not <i>actually</i> of course- Bubby is a completely <i>stable</i> prototype. He would never explode, he’s not like the rest of the failures.</p>
<p>Dr. Coomer enters the room with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dr. Bubby!” Bubby makes a noncommittal noise in acknowledgement. He doesn’t have to turn around to know what Coomer is doing.</p>
<p> There’s an odd comfort to being able to hear everything the man is doing- his shoes clicking against the tiled floor as he begins to set down his things and organize his area. Dr. Coomer takes a loud sip from what is most likely coffee, walks over to look over at his work, finally coming into Bubby's line of sight, sets a second mug on Bubby’s desk next to the whiteboard-</p>
<p>Bubby does a double take. Coomer holds a mug in his hand. He set a second one on the desk- <i>Bubby’s</i> desk. He always just refills his mug, he’s never grabbed a second before. Which means… <i>Which means…</i></p>
<p>“I’m having trouble reading your handwriting today, it’s quite messy. Would you mind relaying your notes to me?” Dr. Coomer asks, his tone light. </p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t say a word. He focuses on the mug, staring it down. The mug taunts him.</p>
<p>“...Bubby? Is something wrong?”</p>
<p>“What the hell is that.” Bubby points at the second mug accusingly. </p>
<p>Dr. Coomer glances between him and the mug, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s your coffee. I was under the impression you liked coffee, you seem to drink a lot of it. Is there something wrong with it? Do you like it a certain way? I had to guess.”</p>
<p>Bubby shoots a suspicious look at Coomer. “I didn’t tell you to get me coffee.”</p>
<p>“No, but I was already getting mine. I thought I’d grab you some too.” He takes another loud slurp. Bubby was convinced that he did that to annoy him at first but he now realizes that’s just how Coomer drinks. “Are you trying to cut back? If that’s the case, I apologize, I didn’t-”</p>
<p>“That’s- that’s not…” Bubby falters. Coomer is looking at him blankly, not picking up on what he’s implying. Coomer didn’t mean anything by it, he just did it because he could. <i>Kindness out of instinct…</i> Bubby doesn’t know what to make of it.</p>
<p>He grabs the coffee off the desk, staring down into it. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” He insists after a minute. Carefully, he sips and chokes in surprise the second he tastes it. <i>“The fuck-”</i> he manages to say through his coughing.</p>
<p>Coomer’s eyes widen. He’s hovering around him in an instant, voice laced with worry. <i>“Bubby?</i> Dr. Bubby, are you alright?”</p>
<p>Bubby holds up one of his hands, placing a barrier between him and Coomer. He attempts not to spill too much more of his drink as he struggles to stop coughing. When he does, he meets Coomer’s gaze. <i>“What…</i> What is <i>in</i> this?”</p>
<p>“Cream and sugar?” Coomer says it like it’s a natural thing. Bubby's mouth drops open.</p>
<p>“You put… You put <i>sugar</i> in <i>coffee?”</i></p>
<p>“Of course! Have you never done that before?”</p>
<p><i>“No!”</i> Bubby’s face scrunches up. “It’s <i>meant</i> to be black and bitter.”</p>
<p>“So… You don’t like it?” </p>
<p>Bubby pauses. Hesitantly, he takes another sip. It’s actually bearable to drink- <i>better</i> than usual. Bubby doesn’t usually get artificial sugar, his handlers insist he should only get sugar through natural means like fruit. Bubby never really questioned it but now…</p>
<p>He likes it. A lot more than he should.</p>
<p>Bubby takes another sip. A smile spreads across Coomer’s face. “So,” he sounds like he might laugh but doesn’t. Instead, he gestures to the whiteboard. “Mind reading what you have? We have a lot of work ahead of us!”</p>
<p>“Ah, right.” Bubby begins to read off what he has- pausing in some places as even his <i>own</i> handwriting gets too much in some places. He finishes the coffee in record time and doesn’t miss the way Coomer chuckles at him with his eyes.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Bubby has been up for almost 48 hours and he thinks he might snap.</p>
<p>Bubby chucks a wrench across the room. Coomer watches with half lidded eyes and sighs. He sits on one of the stools, not too far from Bubby himself, arms crossed and casual. “Dr. Bubby, damaging our equipment doesn’t make you feel half as good as you think it does. Burning half our cabinets did nothing for you yesterday and throwing wrenches won’t help now.”</p>
<p><i>“Shut up.”</i> Bubby hisses. Dr. Coomer’s gaze darkens but Bubby doesn’t pay much attention to it. He gestures to the large, unfinished, power generator in front of them. “Unless you have something <i>useful</i> to say, <i>shut up!”</i></p>
<p>Bubby’s fists clench. It takes everything in him not to set something on fire. “Why isn’t it <i>working?</i> Why does it burn out so <i>easily?”</i> He sends mental death threats to the generator. “This- this could replace <i>all</i> of our current generators if we could get it to fucking <i>work.</i> It can generate <i>three times the power</i> and it <i>does</i> work but only for a short period of time. <i>Why?”</i></p>
<p>“Perhaps more fuel could-!”</p>
<p>
  <i>“-Don’t interrupt me! I am trying to-”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>“Bubby.”</b>
  </i>
</p>
<p>Bubby’s veins go cold. Coomer’s usual warm and friendly tone is gone. Bubby turns just in time to see Coomer standing up. He walks over to him, eyes burning into him. Bubby has to take a step back. Coomer might be short, round, and emotionally softer than him, but Bubby is suddenly all too aware of the fact that Coomer has <i>muscle</i> on him. A <i>lot</i> more than Bubby does.</p>
<p>Ultimate Lifeform or not, if he lands a hit on Bubby, it’s going to <i>hurt.</i></p>
<p>“You told me,” Coomer says in a deadly calm voice. “That if I had anything important to say, I should speak up. You also said that this generator makes three times the power compared to our other generators and we’ve both checked over how it’s built- it <i>works.</i> If it makes three times the power, wouldn’t it make sense that it needs three times the <i>fuel?”</i></p>
<p>Bubby blinks once. Then twice. Coomer makes no attempt to attack him but Bubby keeps his guard up. “I… I suppose that’s true.”</p>
<p>“Test it.” Coomer says simply. Bubby nods and immediately begins to set it up for a test run. Anything to avoid Coomer’s gaze.</p>
<p>Half an hour later, Bubby stares at a perfectly functional generator, whirling happily and doing exactly what it should be doing.</p>
<p>“You were right.” Bubby breaks the silence. Neither of them have said a word since he started to test the fuel theory. Bubby lets out a shaky breath. “You were right and I was-...”</p>
<p>Bubby swallows dryly. His gaze shifts to Coomer, who looks at him expectantly. There’s no getting out of it. “Wrong. I was wrong.” His words leave a sick taste in his mouth. <i>Ultimate lifeforms shouldn’t be wrong.</i> His mind tells him.</p>
<p>But Coomer’s smile returns, not quite as warm as usual, but <i>forgiving.</i> “Happens to the best of us.” Coomer says. “Though next time, you really <i>should</i> listen to me. I’m your partner after all!”</p>
<p>“Of course… Thank you.” He has to force the words out but the fact that he says them at all leaves a bright look in Coomer’s eyes. </p>
<p>“You’re welcome, Dr. Bubby. You seem tense, perhaps you should get some rest.”</p>
<p>Bubby stifles a laugh. <i>“Tense</i> doesn’t describe half of it.”</p>
<p>That catches Coomer’s attention. He peers at Bubby curiously and asks, “Oh? Is this project important?”</p>
<p>“You could say that. If everything goes right, I’ll be one step closer to getting an <i>actual</i> doctorate.”</p>
<p>Coomer’s head snaps towards him, eyes wide. “You don’t have your doctorate?”</p>
<p>Bubby crosses his arms, his mood souring. <i>“Don't look at me like that-</i> I was born in a tube, remember? Natural born genius. I’m as much of a doctor as you are! I just haven’t been able to make it official yet. This whole project is just my ticket to getting one.”</p>
<p>Bubby can hear his own heartbeat pound out of his chest. <i>He won’t respect you after this. Everything will be for naught. You finally get one good lab partner and now he’s going to treat you like you’re beneath him. Like you’re only a <b>prototype.</b> Just like your handlers.</i></p>
<p>Coomer snorts, amusement in his eyes. “I suppose I should be calling you <i>Professor</i> Bubby then!”</p>
<p>All of his doubt drain away, replaced by pure embarrassment. “Don’t- <i>don’t call me that!</i> I’m going to get it soon, I’m <i>just</i> as smart as you!”</p>
<p>“Oh, I have no doubts about that,” Bubby feels his guard drop at that, “But calling you <i>Dr.</i> Bubby wouldn’t be accurate. I think <i>Professor</i> suits you just fine.”</p>
<p>Bubby’s face burns. <i>“Coomer-”</i></p>
<p><i>“Dr.</i> Coomer.” Coomer smiles wryly. </p>
<p>
  <i>“Oh my fucking god.”</i>
</p>
<p>Coomer throws his head back in a fit of laughter. </p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Admittedly, it’s rather difficult to gather information on Bubby as he closes himself off and doesn’t let him in. But Dr. Coomer picks up a few things- his love for coffee, his newfound love for sugar, his ability to set things on fire with his mind, and his punctuality.</p>
<p>Not only is Bubby impatient to get his work done, but he lives <i>in</i> Black Mesa. Bubby hasn’t been late once. Usually, he’s already in the lab by the time Dr. Coomer arrives.</p>
<p>Dr. Coomer walks in with two cups of coffee in his hands. The lights aren’t on. Everything is exactly where it was the previous night. Bubby is nowhere in sight.</p>
<p>Coomer frowns. He hesitantly begins to look around, the lights flipping on in response to his movement. He sets down Bubby’s coffee on his desk. The sound of the mug clicking against the hardwood is the only thing that fills the room.</p>
<p>Dr. Coomer isn’t sure why Bubby isn’t in yet but there <i>is</i> a possibility he’s just late. Everyone has their off days after all. Coomer takes a seat at one of the stools and waits.</p>
<p>Ten minutes pass. Coomer can feel the gnawing anxiety getting to him. The door sliding open makes him bounce to his feet, the stool knocking over as he does. His mouth opens, ready to happily greet his partner, but he falls short. He expects Bubby, and his short, black hair which is either styled or in a mess with no in between to walk in. He'll probably push his glasses up with one hand, scoffing at Coomer's excitement to see him, and tell him to mind his own business and that they need to get to work. But the figure at the door isn’t Bubby. Thankfully, she might have some answers as to where he is.</p>
<p>“Rhea- er, <i>Dr.</i> Rhea?” </p>
<p>“Just Rhea is fine.” Rhea sends a smile to him. It feels fake but it’s somewhat reassuring nonetheless. It's better than a grim one after all. She stands in the doorway, making no move to get closer. Today, she wears a maroon pantsuit, and despite the fact that she’s already over six feet tall, heels to match. Her black hair is pulled back into a low bun. “Apologies, we seemed to have forgotten to warn you today. You have the day off.”</p>
<p>Coomer falters. “The day off?”</p>
<p>“Yes. I’m afraid Bubby is unable to work, and seeing how you two are a partnership, that gives you the rest of the day to do as you wish.” Rhea smiles. Coomer feels like she’s trying to tell him to take it without asking questions. Unfortunately for her, Coomer is too curious to keep his mouth shut.</p>
<p>“Where’s Bubby?”</p>
<p>Coomer doesn’t miss the way her smile dips. She seems to consider something for a moment before sighing. “You’re aware of Bubby’s… <i>Unique</i> situation, aren’t you? How he’s a prototype?”</p>
<p>Coomer nods slowly. He can already tell this isn’t going to be a good conversation.</p>
<p>Rhea crosses her arms, her fingers drumming. “Given how several others of… <i>His kind-”</i> Coomer has to muster up every bit of strength he has not to react at the way she says it, “Have ended up, we have some precautions set up to minimize damage if he were to go <i>rogue</i> as it were. One of them is an internal checkup every six months. We analyze how his vitals are doing and make sure that if he falls apart on us- which I mean quite <i>literally-</i> we will be able to see it coming.”</p>
<p>“And these take all day?”</p>
<p>“No, only about six to eight hours. Actually, now that I think about it, in addition to today, you’ll have tomorrow off as well.”</p>
<p>Every detail makes his heart sink. He doesn’t know what these checkups involve but something tells him that it’s not a good thing how Bubby will be out of commission for two days. Coomer swallows. “If they only take a handful of hours, why will Bubby need a day to rest?”</p>
<p>Rhea keeps a steady gaze. They both know she has no intention of answering that question.</p>
<p>“Enjoy your day off.” She says before turning and leaving without another word.</p>
<p>Coomer is left with an empty room, two mugs of coffee, and his thoughts.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t know how long it’s been but he knows it's almost over. There's no longer tubes attached to him or down his throat. He floats limply, only half aware of what's going on. When breathable liquid drains out of his tube, Bubby sinks to the floor gracelessly. A coughing fit overtakes him but Bubby forces himself to his feet, even with his legs threatening to give out at any moment.</p>
<p>The glass keeping him in slides off to the left, allowing him a way out, but he’s no less trapped than before. Rhea stands in front of his only exit, looking down on him, both in a literal and figurative way. She doesn’t say a word until Bubby lifts his head and meets her gaze.</p>
<p>The look in her eye makes him tense. Bubby is still dripping wet in a white tank top and boxers that cling to him. He has to squint to see her, his glasses stripped away from him. His body trembles and he has to fight to make it as least noticeable as possible. He’s <i>weak</i> and they both know it.</p>
<p>“Everything is working as it should. You're fully stable.” Rhea tells him. Her voice is as neutral as ever. “You know where you can dry off. You have the day off tomorrow but do <i>not</i> be late the day after.”</p>
<p>Bubby can barely focus on her. His mind is spinning but he manages a nod. “Of course.” It comes out scratchy and raw. All he can think about is getting out of his tube but refuses to acknowledge that outwardly. </p>
<p>Rhea looks him up and down. “Is everything alright, Bubby?”</p>
<p>It’s a trap. Bubby <i>knows</i> it is. He’s not allowed to say no- that means showing weakness. Bubby knows better than to show weakness.</p>
<p>“Everything is as it should be.” Bubby answers robotically. Rhea smiles and finally moves out of the way.</p>
<p>Bubby steps out of his tube and heads into the back room to change. Even alone, Bubby doesn’t allow himself to break in the slightest. He just needs to make it to his room. The thought repeats in his head over and over again.</p>
<p>Bubby dries off his body and slips into a blue sweater and some jeans. It helps just enough for Bubby to keep his facade.</p>
<p>The halls of Black Mesa are too long. Bubby stumbles through them, feeling his legs get heavier and heavier as he goes. His room isn’t too far now- <i>he can make it.</i> All he has to do is keep this up and don't stop until he's fully alone.</p>
<p>Bubby rounds the corner and collides with someone else. His legs give out immediately and Bubby crashes on the ground. He grits his teeth, screaming at his body to get a move on but it doesn’t obey. Whatever adrenaline high he was on before crashes and the terror sets back in.</p>
<p><i>I need out.</i> Bubby tries to breathe but he fails, shuddering and choking in air. When someone touches his shoulders, Bubby jumps, reality coming back to him. Green eyes round with concern- eyes that Bubby knows all too well. Out of everyone he could’ve bumped into, Coomer isn’t the worst. In fact, all things considered, he might be the best. Bubby could convince Coomer not to tell anyone. He’s more reasonable.</p>
<p><i>But he might think less of you too.</i> Another voice says. Bubby grimaces at the thought. </p>
<p><i>“Bubby? Are you with me?”</i> Coomer asks urgently.</p>
<p>Bubby nods. It doesn’t convince him in the slightest. Bubby doesn’t need to convince him that he’s okay, however. He's so close, he can't stop now. <i>“Coomer-</i> I- I <i>need</i> to get to my room.”</p>
<p>Coomer gives him a peculiar look but nods in the end. One arm snakes its way around his shoulder to support him while the other hovers close to his chest, ready to help if Bubby falls. Bubby finds himself back on his feet, legs shaking, but his eyes narrow in determination. He refuses to meet Coomer's gaze. He doesn’t want to see how he looks at him.</p>
<p>Bubby briskly starts to lead the way. He leans on Coomer more than he would like but the faster he can get to his room, the better. He’s already embarrassed himself enough and he doesn’t want to run into anybody else.</p>
<p>Fate is merciful and Bubby gets to his room in no time. He slips out from under Coomer’s arm and stumbles inside. The door slides open but before Coomer can follow, Bubby hits the lock button and it closes soundly behind him. </p>
<p>And he lets go.</p>
<p>Bubby slumps down on the ground, breathing heavily. His back is pressed against the door and finally alone, he curls in on himself. </p>
<p><i>“Fuck.”</i> His whisper is barely audible but it’s still there. He can feel himself shaking but at the same time, can barely process it. Everything gets hazy, like a fog has taken over his mind in an attempt to numb everything but only makes it worse.</p>
<p>There’s a soft knock at the door. It makes Bubby jolt up.</p>
<p>“Bubby?” Coomer. Coomer is still here. <i>Why is he still here?</i></p>
<p><i>“I-</i> I need to be alone.” Bubby hates how his voice wavers, even with his best attempt to keep it still. <i>You’re going to lose his respect.</i> His mind continues to tell him.</p>
<p>There’s a pause. “I… I don’t think you do.” Coomer says quietly. “I don’t think being alone will do you any good.”</p>
<p>“I can take care of myself.” Bubby insists. He’s able to keep his tone steady but his hands shake like leaves. “I’ve done this before.”</p>
<p>“Just because something’s worked before doesn’t mean it can’t be improved upon. We’re <i>scientists,</i> Bubby. We prove that all the time. We didn’t have to build a new power generator, but we saw a way to improve it so we did.”</p>
<p>It makes sense. Too much sense in Bubby’s mind but it conflicts with everything he knows. He’s not supposed to seek help. He’s not supposed to show weakness. He’s not supposed to rely on anyone.</p>
<p>Yet here Coomer is. Coomer opens a door to everything he’s not supposed to have but so desperately wants. A want he didn’t know he had until it burns in his chest and makes it difficult to breathe. Or maybe the fact that he’s still breaking down makes it hard to breathe. He’s not sure at this point. </p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t go through that door but he doesn’t look away from it either.</p>
<p><i>“I don’t want you to see me.”</i> Bubby doesn’t mean to say it but before he can stop himself, it hangs in the air. He waits, holding his breath on how Coomer will respond.</p>
<p>“I don’t need to see you.” Coomer tells him gently. “I can just sit right here.” There’s some shuffling as Coomer moves. Bubby hears Coomer sit on the other side, resting against the door that separates them. </p>
<p>It’s a strange thought. How if that door wasn’t there, Bubby would be back to back with Coomer and resting on him instead. It stirs an unknown emotion in his heart, just thinking about how that might feel.</p>
<p>There’s another knock against the door. It resonates in Bubby’s mind, even as it unravels. Bubby’s hand moves on his own, knocking back. </p>
<p>Bubby can only seem to think about two things.</p>
<p>The first is pure dread. His tube still lingers in his mind, causing his vision to get more blurry than it should be. The feeling of being trapped, being helpless, being <i>nothing</i> but a <i>prototype-</i> all of it stays. Even in the safety of his room, he’s trapped. Walls close in on him and he can’t breathe either because he sucks in liquid or because there’s a tube down his throat. Everything threatens to suffocate him and Bubby still has the lingering fear that this is going to be what makes him break down just like every other prototype.</p>
<p>The second thought stays with Coomer on the other side of the doorway. It wonders that with all of that warmth he radiates, Coomer just might be able to give the best hug Bubby’s ever gotten. Not like he’s gotten many hugs to begin with- he can count the number on one hand.</p>
<p>Even so. It makes him want to expand that number- with Coomer specifically.</p>
<p>Two opposing thoughts. Bubby doesn’t know how to deal with either of them. So he doesn’t. He pulls his legs closer to his chest and swallows thickly. </p>
<p>(Sometime in the night, Bubby will fall asleep. He’ll wake up with a pain in his neck and will still feel like shit. And maybe he'll have a crushing fear of being alone but when he hesitantly knocks on the door, there’s a pause before he gets a soft, but unmistakable, “Good morning, Professor Bubby.”</p>
<p>And maybe he’ll still feel shaken but Bubby will have enough will to say, <i>“Doctor.”</i></p>
<p>And maybe when Dr. Coomer laughs wholeheartedly at that, some of the tension will release from Bubby’s shoulder, even if he doesn’t realize it.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Aftershock Blues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Coomer isn't telling Bubby what's wrong and Bubby faces his greatest opponent yet: Feelings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I swear I'm gonna reply to comments tomorrow I just can't stop writing because I wanna SHOW stuff and I have so many IDEAS</p>
<p>Thank you so much to everyone who commented, it REALLY helps me want to write more even when I'm sick of writing</p>
<p>Oh yeah and there's no Rhea in this chapter so the emotional manipulation tag doesn't apply here. Bubby still has issues though.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As much as Bubby claims not to have ‘Nervous habits’ of any sort, Dr. Coomer has been working with him for over two weeks now and he’s painfully aware that it’s a lie. Or at least not true- there’s a good chance Bubby doesn’t realize what he’s doing.</p>
<p>Coomer wrinkles his nose at the smell of smoke. He glances over from the whiteboard, pausing his writing, and focusing on Bubby instead. Whenever something’s on fire, most of the time it seems to be Bubby’s fault. Sure enough, there it is.</p>
<p>Bubby is writing furiously. Smoke is coming from his pencil, slowly burning out from the inside. </p>
<p>Coomer honestly doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed. </p>
<p>“Bubby?” He asks gently. Despite his best efforts, Bubby tenses, but still manages to meet his gaze which is good at least. His grip on the pencil loosens. Bubby glances at his hand like he wasn’t aware of how tightly he was clenching his fist. </p>
<p>Clearing his throat, he pushes his glasses up. “Dr. Coomer.” He says. “Do you need something?”</p>
<p>Dr. Coomer blinks. There’s something sharp to his words- thorns that prickle him and warn him to stay back. He tries to convince himself he’s imagining it. “Your pencil. I think you’re burning it up.”</p>
<p>Bubby pauses but when he looks to his pencil, he sees the smoke. He drops it abruptly and goes. “Oh.” Quickly grabbing a replacement, he nods seemingly to Coomer, despite not looking at him. “Right. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Just like that he’s back to work. </p>
<p>Coomer has to convince himself he’s imagining it. The shift in Bubby’s personality- subtle and difficult to place. Coomer might’ve picked up on some of his habits and behaviors but he doesn’t quite know this one. </p>
<p>It’s like vines of thorns surround Bubby, placing himself in a dangerous bubble. Coomer can reach out all he wants but all he’ll get is a prickle of thorns and hollow words. </p>
<p>Bubby’s not <i>avoiding</i> him… Right?</p>
<p>Coomer’s heart sinks. He’s growing quite fond of the man, he thought the feeling was mutual for a moment there. Two nights ago, he had to help Bubby to his room and stayed with him until the morning, sitting outside of his door. Was that not welcome? Was he just… Annoying Bubby?</p>
<p>
  <i>What if I misread the entire situation?</i>
</p>
<p>Coomer closed his eyes and silently huffed. <i>It’s fine.</i> He tells himself. <i>He probably just needs some space.</i></p>
<p>Coomer faces the whiteboard again. Despite his best efforts to work, his mind has other ideas. Ideas that cloud his mind and whisper doubts until Coomer has to sharply intake just to feel like he can breathe.</p>
<p>“Dr. Coomer?” <i>Oh dear. He noticed.</i></p>
<p>“Coffee?” Coomer makes a beeline for the door. Bubby’s gaze burns into his back when he does. “I could go for a cup and I’m sure you could too!”</p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t respond fast enough. Coomer is out the door and down the hall in the blink of an eye. He stumbles once he’s out of sight, one arm against the wall. His head spins but it doesn’t make <i>sense.</i></p>
<p>Coomer’s gone through worse- he’s <i>divorced</i> for Pete’s sake! Why… Why does he feel unbalanced? <i>Wrong?</i> He can take a hit- plenty in fact! Why is he reacting to a cold shoulder?</p>
<p>Coomer shakes himself, stretching himself out. He winces when the ache in his arms screams in protest. Then it hits him and hits him <i>hard.</i></p>
<p>He rolls up the sleeves of his lab coat and stares down at the bandage around his forearm. The prick of the needle echoes in his mind and the dizziness suddenly gets worse.</p>
<p>“Oh… Well that can’t be good...” Coomer runs a hand through his hair and grips it.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>According to his file, Bubby is a “Control Freak” apparently. Which is <i>exaggerated</i> in Bubby’s opinion but not <i>completely</i> untrue.</p>
<p>Bubby likes to be in charge of things. Experiments, his assistants, his life, his emotions- so what? Anyone who says they wouldn’t want to take control of everything around them is a liar. Bubby just so happens to take a certain comfort when he’s in charge. It’s nothing to <i>gawk</i> at.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, many of the things he <i>wants</i> to control are things he <i>can’t.</i> His life and his emotions get the best of him. The first he didn’t have too much hope for- Black Mesa takes the reins on that matter. His emotions however? They’re backstabbing bastards.</p>
<p>Bubby needs to take a step back. He spent a day holed up in his room to come to that conclusion. <i>Maybe</i> he can come to terms with the fact that he needed help that one time, but it <i>cannot</i> become a habit. Once is chance. It was just <i>chance,</i> that’s all.</p>
<p>The task ahead of him is simple in theory. He just needs to keep things professional. But nothing in Bubby’s life is <i>ever</i> simple and for some god forsaken reason, there’s a part of him that won’t let go.</p>
<p>Bubby has to keep his eyes from constantly checking on Coomer. He narrows in on the paper in front of him, swallowing thickly. He has <i>work</i> to do, dammit. He can’t afford to be distracted. He can stop thinking about one man if he needs to.</p>
<p>Bubby takes a sip of his coffee. His coffee that Coomer got him. <i>Oh goddamn it.</i></p>
<p>He lets out a soundless breath. Bubby forces himself to relax, rolling his shoulders as his mind begins to clear. The more he tries not to think about something, the more he will. It’s happened dozens of times before when he’s trying to stay calm in his tube. Bubby just needs to turn his attention on something else. </p>
<p>Bubby lightly taps on the desk to the tune of a song as he works. Truth be told, Bubby rarely listens to music. However, one of the guards he passed had been humming it <i>very</i> loudly when he was grabbing some food. He doesn’t know the song but the tune was rather catchy.</p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t realize he started to hum until Coomer suddenly looks up from his own work and asks, “Are you singing ‘Dr. Feelgood’?”</p>
<p>“What? Oh,” Bubby briefly hesitates, not wanting to say ‘I don’t know, I don’t listen to music’ since that sounds almost pathetic and instead focuses on a different truth. “It- it might be? I heard a guard humming it.”</p>
<p>A grin breaks out on Coomer’s face after a pause. He abruptly gets up and walks over to the computer, a few feet away. “Come to think of it, you might like that song!”</p>
<p>Bubby wants to hold back. To brush it off and say, ‘I’d rather get back to work’ but his curiosity shuts him up. Slowly, he inches over to Coomer and peers at the screen. Coomer loads up a video of some sort and turns up the volume. Music blares through the speakers and Bubby is caught in a trance.</p>
<p>Bubby’s heard music before- of <i>course</i> he has. He’s not clueless. But so far, every single song he listened to was soft, accompanied by piano or violin. It felt like Bubby could reach out and snap the song in half. But this was different. This music felt more like any attempt he made to try and break this song would end with him having a bloody nose. The song was filled with <i>passion</i> and <i>intensity.</i></p>
<p>It lit a fire in Bubby’s heart. Luckily not in a literal sense.</p>
<p>When the song ends, it takes Bubby longer than he would like to admit to realize how Coomer is staring at him. The only emotion that Bubby can identify in him is <i>fond.</i> Which makes his heart flutter in a way that causes Bubby to cringe internally. </p>
<p>“Did you like it?” Coomer’s eyes gleam. It’s sometimes difficult to imagine him as smug but then moments like <i>these</i> happen and Bubby can hear it in his voice, plain as day. </p>
<p>It almost makes Bubby want to deny it, even if he knows he can’t. <i>“Maybe.”</i> He answers sharply. Coomer’s grin only widens, despite his best efforts.</p>
<p>“Would you like me to play it again?”</p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t say a word. As it turns out, he doesn’t have to. Coomer reads him like a goddamn book and clicks replay. He <i>laughs</i> at the look on his face when he plays it again. Bubby wishes he could find it in him to care more.</p>
<p>Bubby watches as Coomer starts to move to the music. Energetic movements and mouthing the words like he’s the one singing the song. It’s absolutely entrancing and Bubby can’t take his eyes off of him.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” The words leave Bubby’s mouth before he can process what he said.</p>
<p>Coomer’s eyebrows raise. “What does it look like? I’m dancing!” He does a twirl. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what <i>dancing</i> is, Professor.”</p>
<p>Bubby’s chest burns. “Of- <i>of course</i> I know what dancing is!” Which is true, but it is leaving out the part where he couldn’t think of the word at first. “Just… Never seen it like <i>that.”</i></p>
<p>“How do you usually dance?”</p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t answer. </p>
<p>Coomer’s eyes grow impossibly big. “Bubby… Have you never danced before?”</p>
<p>He wants to wilt under his gaze. Coomer has always been a beacon of light- the sun itself- and unfortunately, Bubby has never experienced the sun before, both metaphorically and literally. Everything about Coomer is so unorthodox. He has no training for this. What is he supposed to say?</p>
<p><i>“...Maybe.”</i> Bubby admits.</p>
<p>He’s yanked closer the second the word leaves his mouth. Bubby yelps as Coomer takes his hands and goes, “Looks like you need to learn then!”</p>
<p>Bubby worms his hands out of his grip. Coomer just laughs and keeps on dancing. “I- I don’t see why this is such a big deal! Dancing isn’t that important!”</p>
<p>“That’s where you’re wrong, Professor!” Bubby almost corrects him but is giving a heart attack when Coomer nearly slips. He barely gives himself to recover before he continues. “Dancing is <i>extremely</i> important. There’s a whole <i>movie</i> on why that is- several in fact! Let me teach you!”</p>
<p>The offer is innocent enough. The song is enjoyable and dancing does look like fun but Bubby takes one look at Coomer and-</p>
<p><i>God,</i> why does he feel so <i>vulnerable?</i></p>
<p>Bubby turns his back to him. He doesn’t trust himself with those eyes. “I should really get back to-”</p>
<p>A loud <i>‘Thump!’</i> makes him freeze. He whirls back around, a gasp catching in his throat.</p>
<p>
  <i>“Coomer?”</i>
</p>
<p>Coomer grunts, trying to push himself off the ground. His limbs are shaking- <i>why are they shaking?</i> “I’m- I’m quite alright, Bubby.” He offers a weak smile. The attempt at comforting him falls flat when a pained noise escapes Coomer. “Felt a-a little light headed, that’s all.”</p>
<p><i>“A little?”</i> Coomer flinches at his tone. Bubby doesn’t mean for it to sound so sour but <i>god,</i> can you blame him? “Can you walk?”</p>
<p>Coomer answers his question by steadily getting to his feet. “Okay, good. Come on, then.”</p>
<p>Coomer takes a step towards the desks. Bubby blocks his way. “Where do you think you’re going?” He narrows his eyes.</p>
<p>“To- to my desk? We have work to do…” He voice trails off. A perplexed look forms on his face.</p>
<p>Bubby looks down at Coomer keeping himself steady by leaning on one of the tables and back again. “No.” Bubby rolls his eyes at him. “You’re <i>kidding</i> yourself if you think you think I’m going to let you work like <i>this.</i> We’re going to the medical center. I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”</p>
<p>Coomer cracks a smile. “You couldn’t drag me anywhere with <i>these</i> guns.” He flexes one of his arms. He can’t keep his arm still. A flat look forms on Bubby’s face. “...To the medical center it is!”</p>
<p>“That’s what I thought.” Bubby hesitates but offers to help Coomer walk. Coomer accepts, arm wrapping around his shoulder- <i>like before,</i> his mind reminds him, <i>only now the roles are reversed,</i> which Bubby tries to not think too hard about that.</p>
<p><i>Focus.</i> He has to tell himself. So Bubby fixated on getting Coomer some medical attention. </p>
<p>He can deal with everything else later. Coomer is more important right now.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Bubby isn’t allowed in the room while they test Coomer to see what’s wrong. He’s half relieved, never been a big fan of needles to begin with. </p>
<p>Instead, Bubby is told to go back to work. So he does. He writes and writes and writes until his hand cramps and doesn’t stop even then. </p>
<p>The door slides open. Bubby spins around in an instant. Coomer stands there, almost sheepishly.</p>
<p>“I’m perfectly fine!” Coomer says gently. “As it turns out, it was simply a nutrition issue!”</p>
<p>Bubby has lived in Black Mesa all his life. He’s fully aware of what a lie sounds like, even on different people. There’s no doubt in his mind that Coomer is lying to him. He doesn’t know what about but whatever it is, it’s enough to make his body weaken.</p>
<p>“But!” Coomer adds. “They’ve given me something that should help. I’ll be back to tip top shape in no time!”</p>
<p>Another lie. His gut aches but Bubby reminds himself that he needs to take a step back. This sounds <i>personal,</i> and Bubby shouldn’t get involved in his lab partner’s personal affairs.</p>
<p>“Good to hear.” Is all Bubby manages to say.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p><i>“Shit!</i> Sorry!”</p>
<p>Bubby grits his teeth at the salad dressing all over his uniform but resists screaming at the scientist. “It’s fine.” He says coolly. “Happens… <i>Happens to the best of us.”</i></p>
<p>The scientist- the name tag reads ‘Dr. O’Malley’- sends an apologetic look but also almost looks… Scared of him?</p>
<p>“I, uh… I- I can pay you back.” O'Malley says urgently like their life depends on it. “It was- was a <i>total accident!"</i></p>
<p>Bubby narrows his eyes at them. “Why are you acting like that?”</p>
<p>“L-like what?” O’Malley laughs nervously.</p>
<p>
  <i>“Cut the bullshit.”</i>
</p>
<p>O’Malley falters. “Well… You’re the uh, the prototype, right?”</p>
<p>Bubby can hear blood roar in his ears.</p>
<p>“And- and I just- you hear things, alright? Word gets around. I’ve heard great things about you of course! Fan- <i>fantastic</i> things! You’re a genius! But- I- I heard once that one once turned on their lab partners and just <i>ripped</i> into them and they had teeth just like yours and- <i>oh god why can’t I stop talking-”</i></p>
<p>Their words turn to static. Bubby shoves them out of the way, earning a squeak from O’Malley, but ignores it. His footsteps become heavy and when he opens up the door to the lab, the only reason he hears Coomer say good morning is because he reads his lips.</p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t respond. He sits down on his chair and stays there.</p>
<p>He doesn’t hear Coomer call his name. He doesn’t hear him walk over to him. Nothing else around him exists until there’s a hand on his shoulder and Bubby bounces up, slapping the hand away from him.</p>
<p>Coomer blinks owlishly. “Prof- <i>Bubby?</i> Are you alright?”</p>
<p><i>“Fine.”</i> Bubby turns away from him. “I need space.”</p>
<p>He hears Coomer’s footsteps retract. Bubby stays standing for a little bit longer. Even as he works, mind is elsewhere.</p>
<p>
  <i>I’m not going to end up like them I’m not going to end up like them I’m not going to end up like them I’m not-</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>—</p>
<p>“Can we talk?”</p>
<p>
  <i>“No.”</i>
</p>
<p>He doesn’t have to look to know Coomer is frowning at him. Coomer turns his body to face him. Bubby does not do the same. He keeps his eyes on the whiteboard, despite the fact that it’s blank.</p>
<p>“Bubby… You haven’t been acting yourself.”</p>
<p><i>Get away.</i> Bubby can hear his mind reel itself back like a feral animal being approached. <i>Get back or I’ll make you.</i> He doesn’t want to hurt Coomer by any means but the <i>last</i> thing he wants to do is talk.</p>
<p>“And you would know exactly what I act like?” He says dryly.</p>
<p>“I… What’s that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>He can’t stop himself. Adrenaline courses through his veins and he finally meets Coomer’s eyes. Bubby <i>knows</i> he should stop. He doesn’t. “You’ve known me for almost <i>three weeks.</i> You don’t know <i>shit</i> about how I act.”</p>
<p>“Nearly every day for three weeks is a fairly long time! Not to mention I… It hasn’t just been strictly professional between us, has it?”</p>
<p>
  <i>“...Are you talking about-!”</i>
</p>
<p>“That night.” Coomer finishes. Everything about him is genuine and it <i>doesn’t make sense.</i> “I’ve been giving you some space about it but now I’m starting to think that was the wrong idea. Bubby, if you need to talk- if you <i>need-”</i></p>
<p>“I don’t <i>need</i> anything from you.” Bubby cuts him off.</p>
<p>That stops Coomer for a moment. Only a moment. “But if you <i>want</i> it… Bubby, I <i>want</i> to be there for you if I can!”</p>
<p><i>“Why?</i> Does it make you feel good? To see me <i>weak?</i> Is that why you keep <i>prying into things you shouldn’t be?”</i></p>
<p>Coomer is taken aback. “Bubby, I was only trying to <i>help.”</i></p>
<p><i>“Well, don’t!”</i> It comes off far louder than either were expecting it.</p>
<p>Anybody else would have backed off. Every single one of Bubby’s past partners would’ve left and never come back- like they <i>did.</i> Then Bubby would get a new partner in another week and the cycle would continue.</p>
<p>But Coomer is not any of Bubby’s past partners and he does not break eye contact.</p>
<p>“Why are you so <i>insistent</i> on this?” Coomer hisses at him. His eyes harden, unwilling to move on his stance.</p>
<p>Bubby feels too much at once. He’s shaking- <i>when did he start shaking? Stop that!</i> He tries to regain his composure. To go back to being professional. To put a wall up between the two of them and finally end this all. “Dr. Coomer, with the utmost respect, <i>drop it.”</i> He forces out every word, keeping his tone as steady as possible. He's two steps away from falling off the edge from saying something he really doesn't want to say.</p>
<p>And Dr. Coomer pushes him right off of it. <i>“Why can’t you let me treat you like a regular person?”</i> </p>
<p>
  <i>
    <b>"Because I'm not a real person!"</b>
  </i>
</p>
<p>The very thing Bubby has been dancing around is ripped from his mouth. He didn’t even realize that was the core of it all until it’s right there in front of him. </p>
<p>Like a switch, Bubby watches as all of the previous passion is gone from his eyes. Coomer’s eyes show nothing but the shell of a man lost at sea. </p>
<p>He doesn’t say a word. Bubby has to. “You know who I am. My <i>situation.”</i> His jaw clenches uncomfortably but he can’t seem to settle. “I’m not… Coomer, I was born in a fucking <i>test tube.</i> Black Mesa created me- they <i>own</i> me. I don’t <i>matter.”</i></p>
<p>Coomer steps back. Once, twice, three times, and keeps going. It- it doesn’t make sense. Nothing else seemed to phase him- and Bubby had said some <i>horrible</i> things. Why is he now looking at Bubby like <i>that?</i></p>
<p>“I- I need to go.” Coomer stumbles out the door, leaving Bubby in the dust.</p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t move a muscle. His first thought is, <i>what the hell was that?</i></p>
<p>His second is, <i>I fucked it up again, didn’t I?</i></p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Coomer takes a personal day. Bubby finds out through E-Mail- <i>which was sent by HR, not Coomer himself. He’s avoiding you. Look what you did.</i></p>
<p>Bubby grits his teeth. <i>Shut up!</i> He jabs at himself. <i>This wouldn’t even be happening if it weren’t for you!</i></p>
<p>“Sir?” Bubby snaps his head towards the guard who approaches him. They instantly take a step back as soon as his glare hits them. “...I don’t know how to say this.”</p>
<p>
  <i>“Spit. It. Out.”</i>
</p>
<p>“You- your coat is on fire?”</p>
<p><i>...Shit, it is, isn’t it?</i> Bubby bats out the fire, scowling. <i>Why can’t I ever notice these things?</i></p>
<p>The fire didn’t burn much more than a small hole in his jacket- nothing that Black Mesa will pay attention to. He lets out a breath that’s a longer than he expects and meets the guard’s gaze again. They take another step back. Bubby rolls his eyes, baring his teeth at them.</p>
<p>“I don’t <i>bite.”</i> That’s a lie but the guard doesn’t need to know that. “Chill.”</p>
<p>The guard watches him carefully and doesn’t quite respond to that. “Need anything else?”</p>
<p><i>“No.</i> Not unless you <i>somehow</i> know where Dr. Coomer is.”</p>
<p>The guard’s eyes light up. “Oh, Coomer? Love that guy. He’s always so chipper- talked with him at lunch a handful of times.” They look over Bubby, a smirk forming on their lips. “Are you… <i>Professor Bubby?”</i></p>
<p>The look on his face seems to be enough. The guard laughs as Bubby gawks at them, ready to spew out <i>‘Doctor!’</i> in a split second but doesn’t get to. Instead, the guard decides to hit him with, “Heard a lot about you. You’re half of what Coomer talks about.”</p>
<p>It shuts Bubby up immediately. <i>He talks about me?</i></p>
<p>“Anyways, last saw the guy headed towards the Biology department. He stopped to chat, said he had to do something important. Was headed down to… Lab 805? Yeah, sounds about right.” They nod to themself, satisfied.</p>
<p>Bubby doesn’t waste another second. He turns on his heel and marches down the hall. The guard chuckles as he leaves, causing his face to burn but he ignores it.</p>
<p><i>Why is he in the Biology Department?</i> Bubby thinks.</p>
<p><i>He talks about you.</i> His mind supplies unhelpfully. Bubby swats the thought away and bottled it up when it returns. <i>Not now! Think about that later!</i> He tells himself. Even though later most likely means never, knowing himself.</p>
<p>Bubby scans the names of the labs as he passes them. He gets a sickening feeling but refuses to acknowledge it. The Biology Department is one he largely avoids. He only goes there when he has to. Whenever he’s in it, his chances of running into another prototype increase. It’s the worst place for him to be.</p>
<p>But Coomer is here and Bubby needs to say <i>something.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>...Fuck, he should’ve thought this through.</i>
</p>
<p>Bubby stops when he sees the numbers 805 and halts in front of it. It takes him longer than he admits to enter, but Bubby sucks in a breath. Like ripping off a bandaid, he pushes the door open and braces for the worst.</p>
<p>At first, there’s nobody around. He didn’t know why he was suddenly expecting Coomer to be standing right in front of the door as if he expected him but he’s not there. Not only that, but the lights are off. Bubby blinks and scans the lab. There’s faint green lights coming off some tubes which holds-</p>
<p>Bubby feels the second the ground falls out from under him. The entire <i>world</i> falls away because there’s no way this can be anything but a <i>dream</i> right? He’s dreaming he’s dreaming he’s dreaming he’s-</p>
<p>Bubby’s nails dig into his palm and draw blood. He’s not dreaming.</p>
<p>Coomer floats in the tube. The second his legs can move, Bubby bolds towards him, pounding on the glass. His chest heaves- he can’t breathe- he can’t get Coomer out of the tube- he can’t- </p>
<p>
  <i>He’s in the tube. No no no no no no they can’t take him from me. They can’t do this- he didn’t do anything wrong! He doesn’t deserve this!</i>
</p>
<p>Bubby frantically searches for a button- <i>something</i> that’ll open the tube. He glances at the almost lifeless form of Coomer floating inside. He doesn’t react in the slightest. Bubby can hear blood rush through his veins.</p>
<p><i>Fuck it.</i> Bubby steps back and reels his fist back. It’s engulfed by flames. <i>I’ll get it open myself!</i></p>
<p>He almost doesn’t see it. For one single moment, his eyes drift in hopes of finding something to open the tube. Another tube catches his eye. </p>
<p>Coomer is inside that one too. And the next one and the one after that <i>and the one after that-</i></p>
<p>What looks like dozens of rows of tubes surround the lab. A spitting image of Dr. Harold Coomer is in each and every single one.</p>
<p>
  <i>Why are there so many? Why are they all in tubes? Do they need help? Are any of them the Coomer I know? God I why can't I think straight I just want to think straight-</i>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <i>I need out.</i>
  </b>
</p>
<p>That’s all he needs to think before his legs move on their own. He doesn’t stop running even when he is out.</p>
<p>Bubby bursts into his lab- the closest place to him he can escape to. The only place he can think of to be <i>alone.</i></p>
<p>But he’s not alone.</p>
<p>Coomer turns towards him, eyes wide and conflicted. “Ah, Bubby... I was just grabbing my-...” He trails off when he really looks at him. Concern flickers into his eyes. “...Bubby?” He asks gently. “You don’t look, uh… Yourself?”</p>
<p><i>I don’t feel like it either.</i> Bubby opens his mouth but nothing comes out. No words anyways- he lets out a breathy noise that almost sounds like words but isn’t quite there. Coomer rapidly weaves his way around the tables and chairs to Bubby. Bubby tries to tell him <i>‘I’m fine’</i> with the same result and only seems to make him worry further.</p>
<p>Coomer works fast, gently pushing him onto a stool and pulling one next to him. Even off of his feet, Bubby keeps on hand on one of the lab tables to keep himself steady. He’s having too many thoughts at once and none of them make sense. <i>Nothing makes sense.</i> </p>
<p>Coomer keeps telling him to breathe. <i>I am breathing.</i> Bubby swallows, then his stomach drops at one thought. <i>Is this really him?</i></p>
<p>He doesn’t want to speak but he struggles anyway. <i>“W-what…”</i> Coomer tries to tell him not to strain himself but Bubby bats him away. <i>“W-... What s-song did you dance to?”</i></p>
<p>Coomer stares like he’s grown a second head. “Bubby, I don’t think-!”</p>
<p>His hands move on their own, gripping onto Coomer’s lab coat urgently. <i>“Answer- answer me!”</i> Bubby rasps. <i>“What song?”</i></p>
<p>“Dr. Feelgood.” Coomer answers on second nature. </p>
<p>Bubby’s grip loosens, arms going slack. He doesn’t let go, however. He doesn’t think he can. <i>“Fuck.”</i> He whispers to himself, eyes shutting.</p>
<p>Coomer lets him stay like that for a few minutes. Then, gently, he reaches up and grabs onto Bubby’s hands.</p>
<p>His hands are soft. So very soft. Bubby can’t seem to think about anything else, eyes flickering open and staring at them. He can’t think of the last time someone touched him like this. Not demanding or to direct him somewhere or anything like that. A touch with no other purpose than to make him feel safe.</p>
<p>Huh. Actually, he doesn’t think he’s ever had that before.</p>
<p><i>“It’s…”</i> Bubby clears his throat. When he speaks again, it’s not perfect but he doesn’t sound like there’s something stuck in his throat again. “It’s <i>you.”</i></p>
<p>Coomer nods, eyebrows furrowing. “Of course it is.” He says gently.</p>
<p>“You- you were in a <i>tube.</i> There was more of you.” Coomer tenses, hands briefly squeezing Bubby’s in realization. Bubby’s head snaps up. <i>He knows something.</i> “Coomer?”</p>
<p>“Oh dear…” Coomer breathes, face scrunching up. “I… I honestly thought you knew. It’s the first thing you see when you read my file- and- and quite honestly, I expected you would’ve found out by now.”</p>
<p>Bubby hasn’t read one of his lab partner’s files in months- years maybe. His partners switched so often he eventually found it pointless. He never expected it to bite him in the ass.</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?” He can hear how breathless he sounds.</p>
<p>“Bubby… I’m a clone?”</p>
<p>Bubby’s hands fall to his side. His mouth parts but he can’t seem to say a word.</p>
<p>“It’s-...” Coomer laughs nervously. “It’s quite a long story but if you’re willing to hear it..?”</p>
<p>Bubby pauses. Then nods.</p>
<p>Coomer takes a breath. “Well… There was a man named Harold Coomer, just like me. Very famous in the biological world- he made cloning his life’s work! He spent his entire life perfecting it but by the time he did, he was very old and had gotten sick. And as I’m sure you know, your body isn’t quite as <i>strong</i> when you’re older so he was worried he would pass on soon and leave his work behind. So he came up with a plan.”</p>
<p>“He created me! A perfect clone of his younger self- I believe I had been eight or nine at the time? The details are admittedly fuzzy. But his plan was that he had found a way to connect himself to his clones- a way to continue living in another body. The science all checked out- I would’ve <i>been</i> the original Harold Coomer.”</p>
<p><i>You are the original.</i> Bubby wants to say, though he can’t find the words to get it out.</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, his sickness caught up to him first. And I was a child so when I had been found, the authorities didn’t think twice about how similar I looked to him. I think they thought I was his kid, so instead I was taken in by a neighboring family and grew up without ever knowing. Lived my own life as Harold P. Coomer! I got my doctorate, took up boxing as a habit, started getting into waste disposal, I got m-...” </p>
<p>Coomer almost says something, fiddling with his hands. He seems to rub his left ring finger before sighing. He drops it, moving on. “Point is, I had no idea until eventually Black Mesa tracked me down. Turns out they had been looking for me for a long time. I was living proof of Harold Coomer’s research and everything that had gone <i>right.</i> Not to mention, apparently in his final days, his note taking either got destroyed or he had forgotten to take any at all. Meaning they were having trouble recreating his experiment. But I was his clone and proved to be just as smart so they employed me. They wanted to create more clones- this time off of me. I was all that was physically left of Harold Coomer, after all.”</p>
<p>“Is… Is that what I saw? Your clones?”</p>
<p>Coomer smiles weakly. “Clones of clones- what a world we live in.” He hesitates. “I’ve been… Meaning to tell you and since we’re already on the subject… Bubby, recently there’s been a <i>side effect</i> to the cloning. There was meant to be a connection between the original and his clones in the original research and all these clones have been making me feel… <i>Drained.”</i></p>
<p>Bubby must’ve looked more than a little concerned because Coomer quickly adds, “It won’t kill me- we know that much! And Black Mesa has been figuring out a way to regulate how much the clones are taking from me. In fact, I should be in tip top shape soon! There’s no need to worry.”</p>
<p>Coomer finishes and they both sit in what he’s said. Coomer breaks the silence with a sigh. “Bubby, I understand if this makes you respect me less as a person-!”</p>
<p><i>“What?”</i> It comes out a hiss, taking Coomer by surprise. “Coomer- what the <i>hell?</i> Do you realize how hypocritical that would be? I’m a fucking <i>prototype!”</i></p>
<p>“You’re not less of a person because of it!”</p>
<p>“Neither does being a clone.” Bubby shoots back. “Not to mention you actually had a <i>life</i> of your own. You became your own <i>person.</i> Any shithead who thinks you’re just a copy can shove their unwanted opinion up their own ass and if they have trouble putting it up there, <i>I will gladly help.”</i></p>
<p>Coomer breaks out into a wholehearted laugh. Bubby softens at it.</p>
<p>“Thank you.” Coomer tells him. </p>
<p>Bubby’s heart swells. “It was nothing.” He tells him, trying to shake the feeling off. “And… I apologize for my behavior earlier- it- it was uncalled for and unprofessional and-!”</p>
<p><i>“Bubby.”</i> One word gets him to drop everything. Coomer doesn’t stop smiling. “It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“It’s <i>not,</i> I had no right-!”</p>
<p>He’s cut off again. “I didn’t say your behavior was okay, I said it’s okay <i>now.</i> Meaning I forgive you for it.”</p>
<p>Bubby swallows thickly. He doesn’t know what to say to that.</p>
<p>Coomer stands up, arms slapping at his side. “I could use a drink and I have a feeling you could too!”</p>
<p>“Coffee?”</p>
<p>“I was thinking soda!” </p>
<p>Bubby’s face betrays him. Coomer’s eyes widen. “Bubby, have you <i>never</i> had soda before?”</p>
<p>“It’s filled with artificial sugar, what do you <i>think?”</i></p>
<p>Coomer gasps softly. “You <i>must</i> try it- I’ll grab us some!”</p>
<p>Just before Coomer leaves the lab, something occurs to Bubby. “Hey- Wait!” Coomer stops, tilting his head. “I… I never said thank you for the…”</p>
<p>He trails off. He doesn’t need to say it, Coomer figures it out on his own. His smile grows and he laughs again, softer this time.</p>
<p>“I don’t do it for a thanks or any sort of reward, you know. I do it because it’s the right thing to do. Because you’re a person just like me, Bubby. No matter how unusual our respective births were, that doesn’t take away from the fact that we are alive. And how we deserve to be happy just like anyone else. So, you’re very welcome, but you don’t need to thank me in the first place. I’m just helping out a friend.”</p>
<p>It strikes Bubby that they’ve never called each other friends before. Partners, sure, but not exactly friends.</p>
<p>He kinda likes the sound of it though.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bubby and Dr. Coomer have different energies and yet somehow both embody the 'This Is Fine' meme and I can't be told otherwise.<br/>Notes!:</p>
<p>- For this one, I looked deep down and asked myself, "Coomer has clones (and is one) so what is the worst way Bubby can find out?" So that was the main idea when created this chapter.</p>
<p>- I'm gonna be real honest- the Dr. Feelgood scene was not planned, sometimes when I write these two, I just keep going and I have no idea how I ended up with Coomer trying to get Bubby to dance with him but it brought up a good plot point of 'Coomer is feeling weak because of his clones' so honestly? Worked out</p>
<p>- Bubby has never had feelings for someone before Coomer and it shows</p>
<p>- Kinda wanted to show how some other people around Black Mesa view Bubby and it ended up fitting into the plot so that worked out too! But yeah, Bubby is highly respected as a scientist but seen differently as a prototype. Black Mesa has a lot of horror stories to tell and Bubby ends up getting lumped with some of them because of some of the past prototypes. He does not have a fun time.</p>
<p>- Coomer's marriage and divorce will come up later, don't worry</p>
<p>- Coomer Backstory Time! I had a lot of thoughts where to take it but I liked the idea of Coomer especially understanding Bubby because he's a clone and has clones/lookalikes like him as well, y'know?</p>
<p>Bottom Line: These two give me a lot of feelings. Anyways, I'm gonna go take a rest. I hope you enjoyed this! Commenting is highly appreciated and encouraged!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have discovered another calling and it's writing these two because they deserve it. Notes time!</p>
<p>- I have a LOT of angsty thoughts about Bubby's upbringing and entire backstory in general. Being born in Black Mesa in a tube and expected to be the ultimate lifeform when countless others just like you have failed and failure basically means death for you? Yeah, that can't be fun. Trust Issues galore with this one.</p>
<p>- Bubby has repressed anxiety and nobody can tell me differently. There are not many hills I would die on but this is one of them.</p>
<p>- I also imagine that with Bubby's backstory, he hasn't really ever had feelings for someone before. This will be explored upon. It's gonna be very fun for me, and possibly for y'all as well</p>
<p>- Coomer being a clone has not been touched on yet but just you wait. I have plans. Many many plans.</p>
<p>As always, THANK YOU if you've ever commented on my fics, they're always encouraged and appreciated and I'm not joking when I say I melt inside when I get them! I realized I never really do this but hey, if you wanna find me somewhere else, I do have a tumblr, it's PurpleCatGhostPosts and I'm also on Discord hiding in the HLVRAI Hell Hole server as JustAnAtlantisWriter so those are options if you want em? Anyways, thank you for reading if you got this far!! I have more of this to come</p></blockquote></div></div>
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